


To Be Together

by QuickLikeLight



Series: Wrapped in Light [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Rituals, Mating Run, Omega Stiles Stilinski, References to Specism, Scenting, play mating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4613367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mating Runs haven’t existed in a long time. There’s a reason for that, he knows, but the excitement of the thought still thrums in his hands and feet, fills his stomach with something knowing and tight. It seemed barbaric when Stiles suggested it - something animals would do, and Scott isn’t - he isn’t that. He doesn’t want to be that, despite the beast in his skin. But Stiles had asked so sweetly, his mouth latched onto Scott’s shoulder sucking hard enough to bruise, even if only for a few moments.</p><p>“Don’t you want to hunt me? Find me out in the wild like the stories?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halfhardtorock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfhardtorock/gifts).



> For my dear Heidi, who is the reason I'm still thinking about this.
> 
> Sooooo. This is not the Afire Love Sequel you've all been waiting for. Lol. That's still in my google docs, sitting pretty at about 3500 words and about 1/4 of the way finished, I think. This is just a little interlude I thought of that I knew wouldn't have a place in that fic, and so I decided to write it out as a stand alone. Don't worry! The other stuff is still coming. It probably won't be a year before it's finished. Probably. Title is, again, from Ed Sheeran's "Afire Love" which is a song that is not at all in keeping with the tone of this series but I still love dearly.
> 
> Many thanks to darling [Carrie](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/) for giving me a quick beta on this tonight and reassuring me that it was hot. If it's bad, she's to blame. ; ) 
> 
> General A/B/O warnings apply. Also, there are some references to the specism that was pretty clearly outlined in Afire Love, but that's mostly Scott's internalized worries. Stiles (and I) do not believe him in any way inhuman. :)
> 
> Both Scott and Stiles are 17 in this story, relatively newly turned.

Every time, it hits him like a fever dream. The haze of want rolls over him like fog off the ocean, blanketing his eyes and ears, filling his hungry mouth. His nose, though - his nose is as sharp as ever, guiding him as he scouts his way through the preserve, weaving in and out of the trees on near-silent feet.

Mating Runs haven’t existed in a long time. There’s a reason for that, he knows, but the excitement of the thought still thrums in his hands and feet, fills his stomach with something knowing and tight. It seemed barbaric when Stiles suggested it - something animals would do, and Scott _isn’t_ \- he isn’t that. He doesn’t _want_ to be that, despite the beast in his skin. But Stiles had asked so sweetly, his mouth latched onto Scott’s shoulder sucking hard enough to bruise, even if only for a few moments.

“Don’t you want to hunt me? Find me out in the wild like the stories?”

He does. He wants it desperately, aching in his joints and his soft places for the thrill of the take down, of Stiles’ lean body under his, his soft hole open for Scott’s knot. He wants it, but he’s not an animal. He won’t give them another reason to keep him from Stiles.

“I - we can’t, Stiles. Come on, you know -”

Stiles had just smirked, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Fine. I’m sure you’re not the only alpha that could find a lost omega in the woods.”

So he’s here, following a trail that’s hours old already, sniffing the air in short bursts. The scents blend in heady notes like perfume, the dark pine of the trees and the bright freshness of the moss and the low, earthy scent of dirt and decay under it all. It’s a nice palette for other - _better_ \- smells, Scott thinks, as he gets a whiff of Stiles’ heatscent on the breeze. He’s close now. Not close enough - he can’t hear Stiles yet, or see him, can’t taste the sweat gathering above his lips or grip his hips with bare hands - but he can smell his boy from here.

It makes the wolf _want_. Scott, though - his own desire outweighs the alpha these days, even when it’s hard.

It isn’t a run. He isn’t chasing Stiles down, doesn’t plan to trip him or throw him to the ground, to rut against him in the wild like his alpha ancestors. Still, Stiles is out here alone - he hopes, _let Stiles be alone_ \- so he picks up his pace, not bothering to be quiet despite the eerie stillness of the night. The moon is high, nowhere near full but still bright enough to see by when his eyes flash red, making it easy to clear fallen branches that Stiles would have to have gone around. It isn’t always comfortable, acknowledging that Stiles is human and he’s - well. Something else. But it does have occasional benefits.

“You smell amazing,” he says to the darkness, trying to fight off the waves of lust threatening to overcome him as he tramps through fallen leaves. “You shouldn’t - shouldn’t smell this good, this early in your cycle. Did you do… something?”

There are ways, he knows, that omegas can amplify their scents, make themselves more enticing to alphas. Stiles has never seemed interested in that, his own scent strong and pure, so familiar Scott could catch the barest traces of it in a room full of omegas. But then maybe -

Maybe he hadn’t amplified it for Scott. Maybe Stiles was looking for another alpha after all.

The thought is absurd, completely unlike Stiles, they’re basically _mated_ already - and yet, Scott can’t help but speed his stride, a low growl vibrating through his chest. His feet clear the ground without thought as the scent of his omega’s heat forces him to run faster. If another alpha could smell Stiles out here, caught hold of his scent on the air and followed it to his hiding spot -

He has to stop that line of thought when his claws bury themselves in his palms, blood pooling at each fingertip.

His breath catches in his throat as he runs, like he can feel the ghosts of other alphas hot on his heels. He imagines what it would have been like, years before: smelling Stiles at the starting line, waiting for the full moon, running through the wood in his bare skin searching out his perfect mate. They wouldn’t have had the pre-bond then to help guide him, but he could find Stiles anyway. He knows he could, if he had to; even if they’d never met at all before, the wolf knows his perfect match. He could find Stiles anywhere.

The trees break open, clearing the path in front of him. Before Scott even recognizes where he is, he finds himself mounting the outcropping, peering out into the distance. The scent is strong, but he can’t find Stiles - he doesn’t see - if someone’s already gotten here, already taken him -

“Alpha! Watch out!” Stiles yells the warning, interrupting the panicked build of Scott’s thoughts, shattering his control. He whirls and pounces, bearing them both to the ground with a single push of his strong legs, hand protecting Stiles’ skull where it bounces against the grass. Covering Stiles with his body is the best way he knows to show his claim, since the bite won’t take and their scents are still starkly separate, layered but not blended. Still, with Stiles under him he can’t help himself: his lips find Stiles’ unerringly, sucking hard kisses from them until Stiles is gasping and writhing beneath him.

“Scott - Scotty -” Stiles says, pushing at his shoulders, until Scott remembers himself and looks for the challenger.

“Where?” Scott growls, glaring into the darkness of the preserve. “Where’s the Alpha?”

His hackles rise without his input, the shift falling over him as he scrambles to his feet. He pulls Stiles up and puts himself in front, guarding Stiles’ body with his own. “If you stay here in the open, you should be safe. I can protect you here.”

“Won’t let anybody get me, huh?” Stiles says, and his voice sounds strange, almost choked. He wants to be concerned, to pat Stiles down and make sure he’s safe and whole, but that will have to wait until after.

“I told you this was a bad idea -” Scott starts, words snarled around his fangs.

“Big bad alphas better back off. Mine’s the baddest.”

“There’s more than one?” He can feel himself getting a little screechy, but leave it to Stiles to get them into something like this. They can’t be bonded, neither of them, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be hurt. The thought of someone breaking the pre-bond hits him like a sucker punch, and Scott growls a warning into the darkness. “I promise you I will not let anyone touch you. Just - just stay behind me and -”

Like he can’t hold it back anymore, Stiles doubles over laughing, the sound carrying in the still air. The haze of heatscent and fear clouding Scott’s brain recedes rapidly, leaving him off balance, like Stiles jerked a rug out from under him. He turns slowly, shift already falling off his face.

“There’s… no other alphas, are there?” he asks slowly, running his tongue over his human teeth.

“Nah,” Stiles shrugs, still giggling. “Just you, me, and a hundred of our closest insect pals.”

“This was… a joke?”

“What, did you think I was really going to invite some unbonded alphas into the woods to play catch? No thanks, man. I’m kinky, not stupid.” Stiles runs a hand through his own hair, scruffing it up the way Scott wants to when he isn’t overcome with this mix of feelings - anger and fear, lust and affection.

“Okay then,” Scott says, flexing his hands, letting the awareness settle his muscles, still twinging with adrenaline. The scent of Stiles’ heat flares up again, sharper when they’re up so close, but he pushes through it, rolls his shoulders back and breathes through his mouth.

“Oh...kay…?” Stiles asks, mirth slowly leaving his face. Scott waits another few seconds, letting the tension build in Stiles’ shoulders, in the furrow between his brows.

“Okay,” he repeats. “You want a mating run? Then go.”

“Go…?” Stiles looks around, like maybe he’s expecting a starting line or maybe a bell to ring, signaling the chase.

“Run, Stiles.” Scott says, letting his eyes bleed red. “You have three minutes to get as far as you can.”

\---

This was a bad idea.

He knew it was a bad idea when he started, but - well, he _likes_ bad ideas sometimes, and he’d liked this one a lot. Everyone knows the stories about the mating runs, of omegas stripped down and set free in the woods, their heats synced with herbs that still grow in the meadow near the preserve. They read about the alphas, how they were kept in cages until the omegas got their head starts, until the bells sounded and the doors opened, spewing forth the violent tumult of the hunt.

Scott isn’t violent. _Stiles_ maybe sort of is.

He runs as fast as he can, back toward the Jeep. There’s no way he’ll make it all the way to the road, but there’s a clearing about halfway that will suit him down to his feet - or, well, his knees, probably. He can’t hear anything behind him, but then, he won’t; Scott is a superhuman creature of grace and strength and speed, and Stiles mostly sits out in gym for a variety of completely viable reasons. Still, he pushes harder, running until his lungs ache and his sides hurt, forcing himself through the cramping in his legs until the clearing is just up ahead.

He is so close.

Claws nipping at his back are the first sign he’s been caught. Stiles closes his eyes, letting himself feel the weight of Scott at his back, the sting and scrape of claws against his skin. The growl seems echoes around him as he sprints forward, falling to hands and knees but still reaching for the clearing, for the soft grass and the sunlight.

Strong arms wrap around his waist, dragging him back up, back against Scott’s front where he can feel the hot length of Scott’s erection through their clothes.

“You wanted it this way,” Scott reminds him, and it’s thrilling, makes him go hot and wet so fast his breath catches. He’s dizzy, like all the blood rushed to his cock at once, and his hole throbs in a deep, hurting pulse until he rubs his ass against Scott’s groin, drawing a groan from both of them.

“Yeah, yeah, I do, give it to me,” Stiles grunts, feeling the trickle of wetness already dampening his sweats, carefully chosen for just this eventuality. Sometimes he wants Scott to hold him tight, look into his eyes as they make love in his bed or under the stars, kiss him and tell him that they’ll be together always. Sometimes he wants the playful bites, the soft laughter when Scott tries to flip him and ends up tangled in Stiles’ limbs and the raspberries blown on his stomach before Scott pulls Stiles’ hips into his lap.

Today, though. Today he wants _this_. He wants the struggle of it, the harsh push of Scott inside him, the scrape of rocky soil under his hands and knees, the knowledge that he’s being taken out in the open where anyone could see.

Scott isn’t careful with the sweats as he gropes for Stiles’ ass, tearing the elastic in his haste to get them down. The sound of stitches ripping makes his mouth water a little, like he can taste the electricity of them together on the air, the fierce hot draw of their bodies toward one another over and over again, in every way they can. Scott’s hands on his body are blistering, roaming heatedly over his skin, palming the smooth cheeks of his ass, spreading them with one hand while the other works up under his shirt, keeping Stiles standing.

“Gonna knot you so hard, omega,” Scott purrs in his ear. “Knew I wanted you from the starting line. Smelled you while we were in the cages.”

Stiles is thankful for the hand on his chest, plucking at his nipple, because his knees nearly go out from under him. He can picture it, Scott in the pack with all the other alphas at school. Scott wouldn’t claw at the gates or howl like he imagines some of the others would; he’d be quiet, still, economical in his movements until the bells tolled and the gates opened. He’d have caught Stiles’ scent, have chased him through the woods, passing other omegas by until he caught up with the one who smelled the best.  
The one that smelled like his.

“Oh fuck, yes, alpha - alpha, knot me, do it -” He’s choking on his own air supply, too turned on to think further than pushing his sweats down to his knees and wrapping a hand around his leaking cock. If this was the real mating run, he’d be naked, bared completely for Scott’s eyes and hands and mouth, the mouth currently biting gentle up the side of his neck, making Stiles’ insides run hot and cold in turns.

“Shouldn’t even prep you,” Scott grumbles, two fingers sliding smoothly into his hole to stretch him, careful despite his words. “Should bend you over right here and knot you like you’re begging for. You want it more than all the other omegas. I can smell it on you.”

“I do - yeah, ungh -” Stiles reaches behind himself, scrabbling at the placket of Scott’s jeans until he gets frustrated and tries to just tear them with his hands. He can’t - he’s not a wolf, he isn’t strong like Scott, no claws or teeth to rend fabric or flesh - and his irritation prickles at his skin until Scott’s doing it for him, pulling out his cock to rest against the curve of Stiles’ ass in a dirty, tempting tease.

“You want it?” Scott asks, voice all gravel and heat. “You want this knot, omega?”

“Yes, yeah, want it,” is all he can say, all he can get out as his cunt throbs and aches deep inside where he needs Scott’s touch, his cock.

“Beg for it.”

Scott puts a hand on his back, pushing him down onto his knees in the dirt. Stiles falls willingly, his body finding the presentation position without a thought, ass thrust high in the air for his alpha. Scott’s words light him up, make him wriggle and squirm, wanting the heat of Scott’s hands on his hips, Scott’s thighs between his own.

“Please, please, Alpha, I need it, please,” he starts, until Scott slaps his ass with an open palm. His jaw drops, words stuck in his throat as the sting radiates through the skin and muscle. His lungs aren’t working, air momentarily overridden as a necessity while his body processes the sweet tidal wave of sensation blooming over his skin.

“Tell me what you want,” Scott corrects without breaking character, and the gruffness of his voice makes it even sweeter, “and _why_.”

“Shit, fuck, oh - okay, okay,” Stiles shakes his head, rubbing his forehead against his forearms, sensitized skin throbbing in the warm evening air. He tries to find the omega in him that would be caught in the woods like this, scared and trembling under an alpha, eager to be knotted but afraid of the bite. He dredges up that fear and wanting, pulls it from its dark hiding place and pushes it into the light, tries to shape words out of his secret vulnerabilities.

What comes out is, “Scotty, I want to be yours. I just want everybody to know I’m yours.”

“Oh, fuck, Stiles,” is all he gets before Scott’s body falls over his own. Scott ruts against his ass, peppering desperate kisses at his back, until the head of his cock catches on the rim of Stiles’ dripping cunt. He presses in, in, relentless and shuddering, until he’s buried deep inside Stiles’ ass, both of them gasping for breath. It feels so good - amazing - the best ever, every time, every time Scott fucks him it feels like this is the one, the knot that will take, that will bind them together for the rest of their lives. It’s a golddust feeling all over his skin, sparking behind his eyes and in his balls, filling his gut with spun silver, delicate and bright. Scott’s scent, spiced earth and something cool, almost delicate overtop, wraps around him like thread, binding them closer as he thrusts in over and over.

“Yes, fuck, yes, Scotty, please - please -” he says, a word tumbling out every time Scott thrusts in. He begs for more, too lost to the sensation to worry about how it sounds, who might hear. “Want it, want you, need it, knot me, love you - I - love -”

Scott bites him, teeth gripping hard at the skin on the back of his neck, sending a thrill of pleasure through him even as he feels the skin break, feels the push of yet another part of Scott making space inside his body. Scott moans, broken, as his hips start their tell-tale stutter, and his tongue laps gently at the skin caught in his mouth. It’s overwhelming, like tossing fuel on a bonfire, but the blaze is caught under Stiles’ skin, caught in his fingertips and his toes, in his lips and in the grip of his cunt. His cock drips steadily, thighs messy with slick and he gushes around the press of Scott’s knot, swelling with every push.

“Come on, knot me, love you, give it, Scotty, _alpha_ I -”

It catches, hard and unfathomably large, pushing against his rim with all the force Scott’s hips can create, sending him forward on the ground, arms sliding until he has a nose full of dirt. And then, the stretch, the hot, painful crash of the knot inside him, stretching and filling his cunt until he can’t move, can’t see, can’t even breathe around it, can only feel what Scott gives him, the pulse of the knot inside of him, the steady pull of Scott’s hand on his cock, the roaring waves of Scott’s voice in his ear.

“You’re mine,” Scott whispers, breathy and desperate. “You’re mine, Stiles. You are, you have been, you will be. You’re my mate. I caught you. I have you. Come for me. Come on, Stiles. Come on my knot. Show everyone how much you want me.”

In the haze of his pleasure, Stiles imagines the woods filled with other alphas, other omegas, maybe watching from behind trees, from places where they themselves are tied. He feels the phantom of their eyes on him, on both of them, as his orgasm catches up to him, flooding through his body like a river running over its banks. His muscles clench hard around Scott’s knot, and he moans around Scott’s name as he comes, covering Scott’s hand and his shirt. They fall together to the side, Scott pillowing Stiles’ hip with on hand so the impact won’t jar him too much, but Stiles isn’t sure he’d notice if it did. He’s wrung out, limbs shaking and heart pounding, panting and sweating as they wait for the knot to go down.

“Hurt?” Scott grunts, nosing at the sore spot on the back of his neck. Stiles thinks it over, mentally checking his knees and elbows, his neck and his ass.

“Not really.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Not in any way but the good one.”

“Mmm, good.” Scott’s pleased rumble makes Stiles’ hands ache to hold him, to bury his hands in Scott’s hair and lick into his mouth, to laugh at his goofy facial expressions and the way he always drips salsa down his shirt when he eats tacos. There’s a softness to it that always surprises him in the aftermath, the way he wants to bundle Scott up in his own skin, hold him and keep him. Scott shifts, the knot inside setting of tremors of diluted pleasure. “You satisfy the urge to act like animals, or am I going to have to drag you back to a cave somewhere?”

Something in his voice brings Stiles back to the present, and he aches to see Scott’s face, wanting to kiss him, reassure him. He contents himself with snuggling back, grabbing Scott’s hand and lacing their fingers together. He brings Scott’s hand to his mouth, kisses it over and over until Scott relaxes behind him, breathing going slow and easy again.

“It was a silly game,” he says, hoping Scott will hear the promise in it, that Stiles knows he’s not a monster. “Thanks for indulging me.”

“Yeah, well,” Scott curls around him, humming his contentment. “It was pretty hot, I guess.”

“You _guess_?” Stiles laughs, delighted. “That was, hands down, the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. Seriously. You are the only alpha I’ve ever met that doesn’t have some sort of mating run kink.”

“Guess that’s why I have you then,” Scott pulls him close, rolling his hips in a way that makes Stiles see sparks, makes him shift back to get more, wonder if he can get hard again this quickly. Scott’s hips roll smooth and dirty, knot tugging at Stiles’ rim, and his breath is hot in Stiles’ ear as he whispers, “Need my other half to really bring out the beast.”

Meant to be, for sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know. 
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com). Be sure to subscribe to the series to be alerted when Part Three is posted.


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